


You Maid me Work!

by roxyryoko



Series: Drabbles in the Dark [28]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, Established Sexual Relationship, F/M, Flirty, I’m sorry Raphael, Oblivious Caspar, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Sexual Situations, Sexual Themes, Teasing, implied sex, maid Hilda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:46:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27097537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roxyryoko/pseuds/roxyryoko
Summary: "Good evening, Master!" a familiar voice giggled."Heya, Hilda," he greeted breathily. Just as he began to sink down into the next push-up, he started. "Wait. Master?"Caspar whipped his head around and caught sight of white stockings and the hem of a lacy petticoat. His gaze tracked up Hilda’s dress, over the apron, up the swell of her breasts, to the puffy pink sleeves on each shoulder, and stopped at her head, which was crowned with a ruffled headband."Uh, why are you dressed like that?" he asked.Caspar's hard at work to match Raphael's record of push-ups and sit-ups until Hilda visits his room dressed in a most unusual outfit.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Series: Drabbles in the Dark [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1590193
Comments: 20
Kudos: 41
Collections: Those Who Drabble in the Dark





	You Maid me Work!

**Author's Note:**

> This is a silly fic and I have no regrets. It had been a WIP for months and the Felannie server's prompt "Dress Up" inspired me to finally finish it. The idea was originally inspired by a tweet on twitter.
> 
> Thank you to ohgreywarden for the title suggestion. XD

Forty-two, _Forty-three, Forty-four..._

Caspar counted off the reps of his current set of push-ups in his head. His arms trembled under his weight, battling the burgeoning fatigue caused by each consecutive motion. Sweat dripped down his forehead and pooled on his chest, some droplets even falling on the red carpet between his hands. Still, he blinked away the sting from his eyes and pressed on. Raphael currently held the record between the two of them at three-hundred-and-sixty-four push-ups in a single workout, and Caspar was determined to catch up even if he couldn’t feel his arms for the remainder of the night.

He just had one-hundred-and-twenty more to go. No problem!

_Forty-five...forty-six...forty—_

A faint rap at the door broke Caspar of his concentration. He paused and caught his breath before addressing the visitor.

"C-Come in," he huffed.

The wail of rusty hinges announced his guest’s entrance into the room. Another creak, followed by a soft click notified him that the door closed.

"Good evening, _Master!_ " a familiar voice giggled.

"Heya, Hilda," he greeted breathily. Just as he began to sink down into the next push-up, he started. "Wait. Master?" 

Caspar whipped his head around and caught sight of white stockings and the hem of a lacy petticoat. His gaze tracked up Hilda’s dress, over the apron, up the swell of her breasts, to the puffy pink sleeves on each shoulder, and stopped at her head, which was crowned with a ruffled headband. 

"Uh, why are you dressed like that?" he asked.

"I'm wearing it for you, Master!" Hilda said. She held up the edge of the skirt and twirled around, enabling him to see all sides of the ensemble. "Don't you like it?"

“Sure...I guess it’s nice.” 

Still confused, Caspar slunk down, arms violently shaking now. Talking proved difficult, but the fact that he _could_ still talk confirmed he still had plenty of energy left. His stupid arms just needed to _stop_ being such whimps! 

On the ascent, he asked, "Are you gonna do some chores or something? Would’ve thought you'd get someone else to do that for you though..."

"You're my master tonight, silly!" Hilda bent forward and tickled his face with the feather duster she clutched, causing his nose to twitch. "I'll do _anything_ you ask of me!"

Caspar recoiled away from the duster, collapsing onto his elbow and hip— betrayed by those wimpy arms! He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Since when do you hand out favors?" He glanced around his room, which was perfectly tidy, unlike the state he assumed her’s was in. "I don't really need help with anything."

"Oh, please, Master!" She pouted and the lilt of her voice held a strange performative quality. "You must let me take care of you! I'll do _anything!_ "

He stared at her a long moment, dumbfounded. Hilda beamed back, painted lips a deeper red than normal. Her pink eyes gleamed brightly despite the dim glow of candles, vignetted by a heavy amount of eyeshadow, much more than usually adorned her pretty face. Inexplicably, his eyes fell down her outfit again, taking in every lace and ruffle with careful attention, lingering over her every defined curve with even more care. The ensemble was outlandish, ridiculous even, but Caspar had to admit she looked _cute._

And he wasn’t so heartless that he’d shoo her away. Especially when time together between training, war meetings, and marches was becoming an increasingly rare commodity. 

"Uh, I guess you could help me with my work out," he relented.

Hilda’s smile wavered momentarily, but then she forced an even wider one. “Oh, sure, uh, happy to lend a hand! Anything for my master!” 

She clasped her hands behind her back and stretched, puffing out her chest. “I just so happen to be in the rare mood where I don’t mind getting a little sweaty. I can definitely help you pump out some cardio.”

“Nah, I’ve already done most of my cardio,” Caspar said with a shrug. “Right now I’m trying to beat Raphael’s record for push-ups, and after that I gotta do four-hundred-and-twenty-three sit-ups to beat him at those too! If you could count for me that’d be a great help! It’s kinda hard to keep track when I get really into them.”

Her smile faltered again and her arms fell back to her sides. “I...see. And beating Raphael at these little exercises really is _that_ important, huh?”

“Yeah! ‘Course it is! He destroyed me at the last brawling tournament! I gotta get to his level or I’ll never beat him!” Caspar returned to a plank position. His arms quivered as he added, “So I needa do, uh, one-hundred-and-fifteen more. I think.”

Shakily, he sank down until his nose nearly touched the carpet. Getting back up tested every muscle in his body and every ounce of his will, but now _Hilda_ was watching. He had to impress her! He gritted his teeth and rose.

Hilda sighed and crouched down in front of him. Eyes to the floor, he only caught a glimpse of rosy fabric cascading over shiny pink high heels and painted fingertips hooking around her legs. 

"I thought you were working with Shamir on new fighting tactics,” she said. “I can’t imagine she’d suggest such an insane regimen. Doesn’t seem her style.”

“This is just extra,” he groaned. “Just a bet me and Raphael have going on, trying to one-up the other. But he keeps winning. And I _hate_ it!”

Hilda watched him for a few moments in silence. “Caspar, know I say this with the deepest amounts of affection, but I don’t think you can beat Raphael at push-ups. He’s like a bull, just too strong. You’re like a lynx, swift and agile.” 

“Sure, I’m faster than him, but...Hey, wait! Raphael’s a big, tough bull and I’m just a cute, little cat?”

Hilda giggled, “Lynx can be pretty ferocious! I wouldn’t want to cross paths with one!”

Caspar frowned. “I guess that’s true, but I’d still rather be a bull.”

Hilda tapped his head with one finger. “You’re plenty bullheaded!”

"Hey!” he warned, but his wheeze wasn’t very threatening.

Hilda shifted to a more relaxed position, reclining back on her arms, legs wrapped to her side. “I’m just trying to say that you have a lot of things going for you that Raphael doesn’t. And whether you can do two-hundred push-ups or one thousand isn’t going to change those things.”

“Yeah, like what?”

“Well, for one,” Hilda snickered, “you have an _adorable_ girlfriend— you know, some even say she’s the prettiest girl in the entire army, not to brag or anything— who happens to be in your room right now, dressed in an _extremely_ cute outfit, willing to indulge your every desire, and who may or may not be wearing any underwear.”

Caspar heaved a beleaguered grunt, “Yeah, I guess I am pretty lucky, but I just wanna— wait. What? You’re not wearing—?”

He snapped his head up and met her cheshire grin.

Suddenly all the “master” nonsense and odd offers of favors clicked into place.

And the “sweaty” comment. That echoed in his mind most profoundly.

“Wanna peek?” Hilda practically purred, picking her dress up to mid-thigh and giving it a shake.

Caspar nearly collapsed on the carpet. Heat rose up his cheeks, far greater than the effects of his workout.

Oh, that was, indeed, enticing.

But, his goal! His gains! He needed to finish! Breaking up the workout would hinder results.

Begrudgingly, he settled to use the mystery under Hilda’s dress as motivation to finish as fast as possible. Or, at least, he’d try to do that. Over the course of the last six years, he’d gotten better at the whole restraint thing.

He could do it.

Caspar cast his eyes to the floor. That seemed the safer option in the moment. If the strain in his pants increased anymore these push-ups would become uncomfortable for new reasons.

“Oh, that sounds, uh, nice, but maybe later,” he stammered and tried to refocus on his workout.

“Later?” Hilda whined, her voice a siren’s call. “But, Master! You’ve been working _so_ very hard! You’ve more than earned a break. And all breaks are better with something sweet to indulge in.”

Caspar’s breath hitched. Hilda certainly wasn’t going to make resisting her easy. Restraint faltering, he peeked at her. She lounged on the floor in an _extremely_ provocative position, her skirt now rucked so high on her thighs that his mind scarcely needed to imagine anything.

And he really didn’t want to imagine the few remaining elusive details.

Taking a deep breath, he somehow found the fortitude to resist those traitorous impulses and return to his workout. Caspar burst through the next few push-ups with renewed vigor, the heavy-feeling in his arms considerably lighter. Lust certainly had its perks as an adrenaline rush.

“You, uh, still keeping count?” he asked when he finished a few more. Changing the conversation seemed like the next best course of action for his sanity.

Hilda heaved a disgruntled sigh, but still managed to bubble, “Yup! You’ve done eighty-three of them! Keep it up, Caspar! You’re almost there!”

“Eighty-three?” he repeated, straining to make out the words between pants. “T-That can’t be right. I thought— usually it seems to, hah, to take longer.”

Maybe lust really did give him super strength.

Hilda played with the hem of her skirt, just another ploy to tempt him further and, _oh_ , was it working. “I guess time flies when you have a cute girl cheering you on, huh?”

Caspar attempted to wheeze out a reply, but the words failed at his lips.

“You got this!” Hilda cheered! “My Caspar’s so strong, so relentless, he can do a measly forty-something more push-ups with ease!”

"Y-yeah! You bet!” he managed to crow. 

Emboldened, he pressed through the next repetitions, but the adrenaline burst had ebbed significantly. His arms burned like hellfire and his body felt like it weighed a ton. Would he even be able to feel his hands after this? Let alone enjoy the promise of Hilda’s skin?

His vision blurred and he could barely blink back the sweat threatening his eyes as it cascaded off his nose and forehead in a heavy flow. He gasped for air, his lungs now insatiable.

Even Hilda’s cheers seemed hazy and distant until she suddenly announced, “One-hundred-forty!” 

Shocked and triumphant, Caspar collapsed to the floor, wheezing.

“R-really?” he choked, struggling to do the math in his head. “That means I did, uh, Three-hundred-ninety— no, uh...”

“Yup! Three-hundred-eighty-nine!”

“Oh, wow! I’ve never done that many! Ha! I can’t wait to shove it in Raphael’s face.” He rolled over onto his back and glanced up at Hilda, grinning. “Are you really sure that’s right?”

Hilda plucked up a lock of hair and twirled it. Innocently, she said, “Well, I’m not very competent when it comes to things like math and numbers, especially when I have to keep track of such large amounts, so maybe I accidentally skipped a few here and there.” 

Suddenly, she shrugged and met his frown with a coy smile. “But, eh, so what if the count is a teeny-tiny bit off? Just tell Raphael you beat him and be done with it!”

“H-Hilda!” he sputtered, words very difficult to form between pants. “Cmon, you didn’t skip, did you? I wanted to beat him fair and square. I wanted to prove to myself I could!”

Hilda crawled over to him, positioning her face inches above Caspar’s. So close he could feel her breath wash over his scalding cheeks and could taste her perfume on his tongue with every labored inhale. Even upside down she didn’t fail to be utterly alluring. 

“Aw, Caspar, you did _most_ of them,” she crooned. “Do an extra five or twenty really matter? I still think you're plenty amazing for doing the insane number you did! The way your arm muscles were flexing, well, let’s just say it got me feeling _very_ hot and overwhelmed myself.”

She leaned down, brushing her lips against his in the lightest touch. As her hair cascaded down her shoulders, covering them in a pink veil, he parted his lips and welcomed her gentle kiss. Weary and breathless as he was, he summoned all his remaining strength for Hilda, trading chaste kisses that quickened his pulse and left him wanting more.

“It was a lot, wasn’t it?” he muttered, lifting his head in pursuit when she pulled away.

Tenderly, Hilda brushed a lock of damp hair from his forehead, fingers leaving a tingle, cool against his burning skin. “Ready for that sweet, Master? I think you’ve worked out enough today to deserve extra dessert.”

Oh, yeah. His work out.

Caspar lowered his head back on the floor with a groan. “As much as I appreciate your current mood, I still gotta try and match Raphael in sit-ups today.” 

Hilda’s wounded pout almost made him change his mind. _Almost._ With his last thread of restraint, he tucked his arms under his head and rose into the first crunch, counting it off in his head.

“Is that so?” she huffed and rose to her feet, circling around to his side.

“Yeah, and you’re kinda making it really difficult to stay focused.”

With no warning besides an annoyed “Humph,” Hilda plopped down onto his lap, legs straddled on either side. Caspar gaped as she adjusted her dress over her thighs.

“And this is a problem, how?” she asked, indignant, and ran her fingers over his abdomen, spurring delightful shivers down his spine.

Caspar paused his routine and stammered, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I really, _really_ appreciate your enthusiasm, and I really wanna do, uh, stuff, with you as soon as I’m done. I just can’t quit right now.”

“I wouldn’t dream of asking you to quit! By all means, continue. I’m just offering you some incentive, a little reward every time you come up.”

“A reward?” he repeated, completely baffled.

“Yup! A little smooch from your darling!”

Hilda shifted her weight, bearing more of it onto his groin, and Caspar’s want became almost insufferable. The fact that she apparently lacked undergarments didn’t help any, either.

“Oh, okay,” he squeaked. “I guess—” He cleared his throat— “I guess that could be pretty motivational.”

“I’d imagine so,” Hilda purred with a flutter of lashes and shimmy of her hips that made his breath catch.

Salvaging his pride— now he had to overcome this challenge or he’d look like a fool after being so damn stubborn!— he lifted his torso off the ground, the motion slightly awkward with Hilda on his hips. A blush deepened on his cheeks as he drew closer to her face. She stayed perfectly still, half-lidded eyes framed by dark lashes and powdered lids, ruby-red lips pursed. 

At the top, he hesitated, suspending the pose, breath held. Hilda hummed in encouragement. 

She was expecting him. Had been all night. And he had made her wait. Made _them_ wait.

In a swift, clumsy motion, he pecked her on the lips.

Hilda giggled as he rolled back down. The sound echoed in his ears, ringing bright and adorably. Naturally, he had to come back up and plant another kiss on her lips as quickly as possible to hear her laugh again. And she did, a chiming bell.

Caspar bursted through his sit-ups, completely forgetting to count, and decorated Hilda’s lips, cheeks, and chin with kisses. Sometimes he missed, moving too impulsively, and their noses bumped, inciting groans that quickly turned to chuckles. His own laughter boomed, unbridled and husky, as they continued the game. Hilda squirmed, playfully admonished that his failed smooches didn’t count for a sit-up, and inched lower and lower to meet the next encounter of their lips.

Overcome with merriment, Caspar didn’t even notice when Hilda followed his descent to the floor, arms hooked around his neck, simple peck melting into a deep, impassioned kiss. He didn’t rise again, lost in her scent and warmth and taste. Like a magnetic pull, his hands found her waist, squeezed her closer, and examined every inch of her ruffled dress and its drape over her body.

He broke their kisses with a shuddered breath. “You’re definitely not helping me focus,” he murmured, tracing his lips over her cheek.

“I’m afraid I don’t have the faintest idea of what you’re talking about,” Hilda gasped, aghast. Somehow she made something as terrible as lying unreasonably adorable. “I’m trying my best to help you, really. Look here—” Hilda wiggled her chest— “I’m supplying you extra weight so you can build up your muscles to be even stronger. Surely, my dauntless, tough Caspar can do a sit-up like this?”

Caspar flipped them over before his mind fully registered the action, fully registered that all his restraint had dissolved away. 

“No, you’re not helping,” he repeated, voice startling raw with want. He rose up onto his knees and elbows and leered down at Hilda pinned under him.

“Oh, dear,” Hilda muttered, a coy smile on her face. “I’m supposed to be my master’s obedient servant tonight. If he’s not pleased then he must tell me how I can make amends.”

She rolled her hips under him and Caspar gasped.

“Heh, well, I definitely got a few ideas.”

Caspar moved to seize her lips again, but a firm hand on his chest stopped him abruptly.

Hilda wrinkled her nose. “Master, you’re all sweaty, and kinda stinky. I propose you take a bath before I can assist you with your no doubt awe-inspiring ideas.”

Caspar gawked. “Cmon, Hilda! That’s not fair! You’ve been teasing me relentlessly!”

“Well...I am a maid, a really, _really_ cute one, and what do maids do best? Clean, silly! So, naturally, it’d be my absolute pleasure to wash you up until you’re scrub-a-dub fresh!”

Hilda teased her fingers around the tent in his pants and added, “Every inch of you.”

* * *

Entwined under twisted sheets with Hilda, Caspar’s heart drummed like he had just completed two-thousand push-ups. As weary as his body felt, both his mouth and hands remained greedy for her. Hilda returned the heat and exploration, albeit much more languidly.

“You’re inexhaustible,” she laughed as he bruised another kiss onto her breast where the maid outfit had been pulled aside for the benefit of roaming hands and meandering mouths. 

Caspar chuckled and rested his head on her chest, a mat of tangled, damp tresses for a pillow. Hilda used one hand to absentmindedly comb through the locks on the other shoulder. At least she’d forgiven him for accidentally pitching her into the wash basin on their first encounter, a result of hasty and reckless fulfillment.

“Heh, yeah, I am! And _you_ like it,” he teased. “And didn’t you say I’m your master _all_ night? I gotta enjoy every second. Gotta try new things, ask for favors you’re normally not so inclined to indulge me with.”

Hilda shifted and looked down at him. “Oh? And what would those be, _Master?_ ”

“Well,” Caspar began, prowling back over her. “I think I’d really like if you—”

“Caspar!” Raphael’s bellow interrupted. A hammering at the door accompanied the repetition of Caspar’s name. “Hey, Caspar, you in there? How’d you do?”

Caspar looked to the door and watched it rattle with every thump of Raphael’s fist. Completely flabbergasted, he couldn't will himself to answer.

“Oh, he was _masterful!_ ” Hilda called with a giggle and Caspar’s blood ran cold. 

Chagrined, he fumbled to silence her, which only encouraged giggling _shrieks_ as she wiggled around to escape.

“Sssshhh, Hilda,” he not-quite whispered when he finally got a hand around her mouth.

On the other side of the door, Raphael’s puzzled voice boomed. “Huh? Is Hilda there? Are you guys working out together?”

Hilda licked Caspar’s fingers, startling him to let go. “Yup! Caspar’s so good at getting me motivated!” 

“Oh, that’s great! Glad to hear Caspar’s got you training, too, Hilda. You'll sleep better at night after a good workout! Trust me!” 

Hilda snuggled back into Caspar’s side, planted a kiss on his shoulder, and looked completely innocent as she answered, “Whew! Don’t I know it!”

Caspar wished the blanket could make him completely vanish.

“So then, what was your score, Caspar?”

“Three times in one evening,” Hilda all but cackled.

“Hilda!” Caspar barked and pushed a stray pillow over her head. 

Unfortunately, the pillow did little to muffle her laughter. He pulled it away when she ceased and fixed her with a scowl.

"Huh?” Raphael asked. “Only three push-ups? That seems kinda…”

“No, uh, that was some other, uh, exercise!” Caspar blurted. “I got three-hundred-eighty-nine push-ups, give or take a few, and uh, haven’t got to the sit-ups just yet. Been, uh, helping Hilda with, uh—” He glanced down at her, silly dress more off her than on, and his eyes lingered over her completely exposed chest— “her form.”

“That’s awesome! That’s a record for you, right? I broke my record too! Four-hundred-and-fifteen push-ups and four-hundred-eighty sit-ups!”

“Oh, wow!” Caspar hissed as Hilda’s hand made it’s way between his legs. “Good job, buddy!”

“Aw, thanks! You too! And good luck with the sit-ups! I have a feeling you’ll beat your record too! Have a good night guys!”

He tapped a farewell on the door and then vacated the hall.

“Crap!” Caspar groaned when Raphael’s heavy footfalls were finally out of earshot. He fell back on the bed, laying his head back on Hilda’s shoulder. “Over _four_ -hundred? How does he do it?”

“He’s a beast,” Hilda hummed, soothingly scraping her fingers through Caspar’s hair. “You’re not too far off from one though.”

“I just gotta do five-hundred sit-ups tonight!” He sat up and glanced around for his discarded clothes.

“No, you won’t,” Hilda said, a pout on her face.

He whirled back on her, frowning. “Hey! Are you doubting I can do it?”

“I’m sure you can, but not tonight.”

“Raphael’s just gonna keep getting better. I gotta keep up!”

Hilda wrapped her arms around his bare torso. “You’re not going to do it tonight because I’ll _freeze_ if you leave this bed, and there’s no way my sweet Caspar would want that, right?”

“No, but...”

As much as the thought of losing damaged his pride, Caspar didn’t offer much protest when Hilda tugged him back over her.

“If winning against Raphael is so important, why not set the challenge to something you have the advantage in?” Hilda offered, already teasing his back with featherlight touches. “Like running, or I don’t you...you guys are pretty crazy, handstand push-ups.”

Her lips found his neck and he relented, “Huh, I guess, I could try that.”

Hilda smiled. “Good! Now that that’s settled... _Master_ , won’t you let me shower you in compliments about how utterly amazing you are, pretty-please? I’ll even include the ways in which you completely dominate our dear Raphael.”

She rolled her hips. “Like endurance.”

Caspar grinned, wide and devious. “You know, I thought of a record I’d much rather beat tonight!”

Without further delay, Caspar claimed Hilda’s mouth in an exuberant kiss. Throughout the night, master and maid proceeded to set several records together, all of which they kept secret from their muscly friend. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween!!
> 
> Feel free to follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/roxyryoko)! As always, kudos and comments are appreciated.


End file.
